


Rite of Passage

by 36and40



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fingering, Hunting, Kissing, Masturbation, Multi, Sam's Birthday, Threesome (m/m/f), Underage discussion of sex (innocent), Wincest - Freeform, finally getting a clue (Sam & Dean), no underage sex!, oral sex (male-female), shower masturbation, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4806524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/36and40/pseuds/36and40
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set six years before "Right", Sam and Dean go out hunting and learn more than they expected (about each other).</p><p>PART 1 of the "Right" Trilogy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rite of Passage

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to my super-beta soncnica. Essential as always. Thanks for giving me the smackdown on my shifting points of view; hopefully this version won't give you point-of-view-vertigo. Also, thanks for pointing out that the "discovering something about yourself by way of a threesome" might be the MOST tired of tired SPN slash tropes...and then thanks for supporting me when I decided to go there anyway. :) Lastly, you found what might be the most hilarious spelling mistake ever...that Sam had an "obscene bugle" in his towel (duh; of course I meant "bulge")...how Sam fit an entire brass horn instrument in there, I'll never know. :) I'm still laughing at that one.

"Consider it a rite of passage," said the tough, hot, no-nonsense bartender as she set a glass of deep mahogany liquid tinged with red down in front of Dean.  "That's what I call this beauty," she nodded proudly at the glass containing the new drink she invented last week and had talked Dean into trying.  "Believe me, you'll never go back after you try this."  She smiled, winked, and turned to mix a rum and Coke for the fat guy seated a short distance down the bar.  Dean checked out her ass.  He was pretty sure she wouldn't mind.

 

"I've been here since noon," she sighed when she returned to her place in front of him.  She leaned over, resting her elbows on the bar.  He tried not to look down her tank top, but it was a losing battle.  She looked up at him, smirking, "I get off in about half an hour," she paused before adding, "and that's what I'd like to do...get...off."  She raised an eyebrow at him, reaching out to run her fingers over the back of his hand resting on the bar.

 

Dean almost choked on his excellent drink.  Her directness was giving him a killer hard-on.  Fast.  He put his other hand on top of hers and groaned, "You have no idea how much I'd love that," he looked into her eyes, "but it's Sam's birthday.  I came over here to pick up some food for us and I can't stand him up tonight."

 

"Okay," she continued to stare into his eyes, then lowered her voice, saying evenly, "Then let's...not...stand him up."  She ran her tongue over her lips, revealing an intriguing glint of silver as her piercing flashed by.

 

It took all of one second for Dean to grasp what she was saying.  "Really?" he asked in disbelief.

 

"I'll make sure we have enough food for three," she smiled.  "Don't go anywhere."  She turned and headed  back to the kitchen.

 

"Not a chance in hell!" Dean called after her.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Three weeks earlier:

 

"Dean Winchester," he introduced himself extending his hand to the smokin' hot bartender.  "And this is my brother Sam."

 

"Jesus, am I glad to see you two," she replied, shaking their hands firmly in turn.  "Name's Gillian," she leveled her gaze at Dean.  "But my friends call me Gill."

 

"Well, then, Gill," Dean smiled, "what can we do you for?"

She rolled her eyes but otherwise ignored Dean's worn-out innuendo.  "I didn't know if that old number would still work."  She had dialed Bobby's old cell phone number which she’d found in her late mom's address book.  She and her mother had spent a terrifying summer in a haunted rental when she was seven.  She had no idea how her mom had found the wooly-looking guy with the beer gut, but everything in the house returned to normal after he left.  She never forgot it and held onto the number even though she had no idea why.  She hoped she'd never need it again.  So much for hope.

 

The voice that had answered the phone when she called didn't sound old enough to be the same guy that brought their nightmarish summer to a quiet and peaceful end all those years ago, and she had no way of knowing the voice that answered belonged to someone who looked like _this_.  Fuck.  She was going to have to keep it all-business...somehow.  She'd let this Dean guy know how she came to have Bobby's number.  How he'd helped her and her mom all those years ago.

 

"Yeah, you were the first call on that phone in about three years," Dean confirmed.  "We keep it charged though.  You never know."

 

"Thanks for making the drive," she said with sincerity.  "I'm about to go out of my Goddamned mind."

 

"Tell us about it."  It was the first time Sam spoke.  Gill looked over at him and thought she'd have no problem spilling everything to someone with that much kindness in their eyes.

 

"I'll be done here in about another twenty.  Could you two stick around and then we'll have some time to talk?"

 

"Sure thing," Dean said.  Sam nodded.  "It was a long drive; we're kinda thirsty anyway."

 

"Oh. God.  Where are my manners?" she exclaimed, flustered.  She pulled two ice cold beers from below the counter, "They're on the house.  Let me know if you want something stronger."

 

"These are perfect," Dean smiled.  "Thanks."

 

"Maybe a couple of burgers too?" she offered.

 

"Bacon cheeseburger?" Dean asked hopefully.  

 

"Best in the county," Gill replied proudly.

 

"I think I'm gonna like it here," Dean took a long pull from his beer.

 

"Sam?" she asked.

 

"Uh, maybe a Cobb salad?"  He sounded like he felt guilty for asking.

 

"My brother here's a bit of a freaky health nut," Dean rolled his eyes.  

 

"Don't knock it," she looked Sam up and down, "it's working for you," she smiled suggestively causing Sam to blush from neck to forehead.

 

"Really, Sammy?  No comeback for that?"  Dean arched an eyebrow.  "He's also a little shy."

 

"I think it's sweet," Gill smiled warmly.  "I'll have those right out for you, then we talk?"

 

"Deal," said Sam and Dean at the same time, looking at each other.

 

Gill headed for the kitchen, both of them checking out her ass as she went.

 

"I call dibs, Sammy," Dean said under his breath.

 

"You wish," Sam huffed.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When the bar was empty and the three of them were seated in a corner booth, Gill took a long drink from her Corona and set it down gently.  "What's been going on around here?" Sam asked with sincerity.  "You said on the phone that several of your customers just disappeared in the last few months?"

 

"I was raised in this place," Gill said absentmindedly.  "These men and women, here in this town, most of them have known me since I was born."  She looked out the window into the darkness.  "We get our share of drifters through here too but they aren't the problem; it's the regulars."

 

"The 'regulars'," Sam asked, taking an educated guess, "have their lives been falling apart?"

 

"Most of them have done really well over the years thanks to mining natural gas on their land, " Gill continued, "...they discovered a vein around these parts about a decade ago.” She ran a finger through the condensation on her beer bottle.  "They all seemed like they had it all, you know?  They worked hard, paid off their mortgage, put their kids through college, even if they hadn't gone to college themselves.  Fuckin' American Dream, right?”

 

Sam gave a sarcastic huff and Dean shot him a look.  

 

"Until?" Dean prompted her.

 

"Until three months ago.  First one was Mr. Anderson.  Suicide.  Shocked the entire town."

 

"Not many suicides around here?" Sam asked.

 

"Not just that...it was the _way_ he died.  It was like...overkill.  He was found hanging in his barn with his wrists slashed...and if that weren't enough, some Goddamn dog or coyote or something got to the body first.  When the Sheriff found him, everything that was supposed to be inside was, well, you know, outside," she shuddered and took another drink.  "He and his wife had been married thirty-five years.  They had five kids.  It just made no sense, but you never really know people right?" she asked, looking down.

 

"No, you don't," Sam said in agreement.  

 

 _'What the fuck is that supposed to mean?'_ Dean wondered, cutting Sam another look.

 

Gill pressed on, "Of course I wouldn't have called that Bobby guy over a suicide.  Even though it made no fucking sense.  But then I saw Mr. Anderson's youngest daughter Sera at the funeral."

 

"Go on," Dean said quietly.  "What happened at the funeral?"

 

"Everyone was a wreck at that thing.  Mr. Anderson had been a pillar of the community, friend to everyone, all of that.  And there was Sera, I think she's about twenty now, no emotion.  She just stood there staring straight ahead.  I thought maybe she was in shock. Now, this is a sweet kid.  I even did some babysitting for her when she was little.  She fuckin' Facebook friended me last month."  Gill shook her head, "I felt so bad for her, so I got up when the service ended and walked over to give her a hug.  She doesn't hug me back; just kinda stands there with her arms at her side, ya know?  Before I let go, she whispers in my ear, 'He was just the first.'  I was sure I heard wrong.  I pulled away to look at her and she smiled.  She fucking smiled.  Her eyes looked, I don't know how to describe it.  Blank.  Dark.  It was just a fraction of a second and then she went back to catatonic.  I wondered if I imagined it all."

 

"But it _was_ just the beginning, wasn't it?" Dean asked.

 

"Yeah," Gill admitted.  "There've been five others in the last month.  All suicides.  No history of depression.  No...nothing.  I know it's not much to go on.  I just remember the way I felt when that _thing_ was in our house when I was a kid; the reason my mom called that Bobby guy.  Was he your dad or something?"

 

Sam started to say something, but Dean stopped him.  "Yeah, he was," he answered. "He's gone now."

 

"I'm sorry," Gill said gently.  "He was a really good guy."

 

"Yeah, he was," Dean said again, taking a long drink and blinking back his stinging eyes.  He was more than a little surprised to feel Sam's hand behind his back.  But he welcomed it.  It never got any easier acknowledging that Bobby was gone and Sam always understood that particular knife-to-the-heart feeling.

 

"Anyway," Gill continued, "Sera, when she looked at me like that, I had the same feeling that I had the night that I came face-to-face with that thing in our house when I was little. Something felt wrong.  Evil.  It freaked me out.  So I called."

 

"You did the right thing," Sam said reassuringly.  "Can you give us Sera's address?  We'd like to ask her a few questions."

 

"Um, yeah, sure," Gill stood up to retrieve her bag and her cell phone from the back of the bar.

 

Dean looked at Sam when she was out of earshot, "Whaddya think?"

 

"Well, the eyes, obviously; we have something demonic going on here.  But why would a demon want to kill a bunch of hosts?  They usually want to use the meatsuit to do whatever evil sonofabitch thing they want to do...a bunch of dead people aren’t going to help them much."

 

"Maybe it's trying to hurt the families somehow?" Dean wondered.

 

"Yeah, maybe," Sam didn't sound convinced.  "We'd just better load up on holy water. Don't think we'll be needing the salt rounds this time."

 

"Good." Dean sounded relieved.

 

"Good?  Since when is a demon good?" Sam questioned.

 

"Since we had to dig up that grave two weeks ago and I don't really want to do that again anytime soon. I'm gettin' too old for that shit."

 

"You're only thirty-four, Dean."

 

"Like I said..." Dean trailed off.  "Have your Latin ready, Sammy."

 

\------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sera was a dead-end.  Whatever might have been riding her had cleared out long before Sam and Dean got there.  They found a girl still dealing with the unexpected death of her father and only able to remember that she felt "weird" during the funeral and extremely tired soon after, which she chalked up to grief.

 

They worked their way through the families of the other suicide victims; interviewing, hoping to catch a break or get some clue as to where the evil bastard - if they were even right about what they were dealing with - was headed next, but it always seemed to be able to stay one step ahead of them.  Every night they ended up back at the bar, filling Gill in on what they hadn't found.  Dean found it easy to talk to her because she wasn't afraid to challenge him or joke with him, which, come to think of it, reminded him an awful lot of Pamela.  

 

Sam warmed up to her too after the first week.  She was a smart-ass with Dean and a sweetheart with Sam.  She quickly learned their favorites and always had them ready because she knew they'd be hungry.  It had been awhile since they'd had anyone but each other taking care of them and they appreciated every burger and every salad.  

 

After hanging out at the bar at the end of the day, every day, for a week, they realized that Gill really was the center of the town.  Well, the bar was, but she knew everyone; knew everyone's problems and was always there to encourage or give a swift kick in the ass if that's what someone needed.

 

At the end of week two, Dean sat at the bar, shaking his head.  Gill poured him another shot.  "I just can't figure out a fucking pattern here," he admitted.  "There hasn't been a suicide since we got here and, I mean, that's great, but I don't know what this thing is up to or if we're even on the right track."

 

Sam sat down on the barstool next to Dean and Gill slid him a beer before he could even ask.  "Thanks," he nodded at her.  She smiled back.  "I might have something here," he said, opening a newspaper from the next town over.  "Suicide.  Yesterday.  A mom and head of the PTA with no signs of depression or anything."

 

"You think it skipped town?" Dean asked.

 

"Could have.  You really think that after five suicides in one place in a month it would just up and stop suddenly?" Sam asked.

 

"Well we got squat here," Dean sighed heavily.  "We might as well go check it out tomorrow."

 

"Agreed," Sam dug into the salad Gill set in front of him.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When they got back to the bar the next night, Gill greeted them.  She seemed slightly distracted, but nothing seemed out of place.  "So," she asked Sam, "You, uh, find anything today?"

 

"Turns out the woman who died had been having an affair with the school principal.  So much for the perfect life.  She killed herself because she was being blackmailed; thought she'd lose everything when the affair came out.  Turned out it was a waste of time."  Sam sat down heavily.

 

"I'm gonna go batshit crazy here if we don't find something soon," Dean hit the bar with his fist.  "Maybe we have to just admit there's nothing here to find."

 

"Maybe," Gill replied.  Sam shot Dean a concerned look.  She'd been adamant all along that something was wrong.  It didn't seem like her to give up.  "What can I get you guys tonight?"

 

That was it.  Something was way off.  Gill hadn't asked for their order since their second night in town.  She just always had it ready.  

 

"Uh, I'll take a salad," said Dean, "and he'll have a bacon double cheeseburger, extra bacon," he tilted his chin towards Sam.

 

"Alright, coming right up," she smiled rather vacantly, disappearing into the kitchen.

 

"She didn't even question it," Sam whispered to Dean.  "Something is definitely fucked up here."

 

"Ya think, Sherlock?" Dean's brow was lined with concern.  "I'll head back there from this direction and you go outside and cover the kitchen door."

 

Sam was gone before Dean could say another word.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dean swung open the kitchen door soundlessly.  He couldn't see anyone inside but he had his gun drawn as he stepped through the doorway, quickly ducking behind a bakery rack.  He heard a voice.  It was Gill's, and it wasn't Gill's at the same time.  

 

"Hey Dean, I've got something here you might want to see."  

 

He moved in the direction of the voice and stepped around the corner to find Gill, firmly pressing the head of Mike, the short order cook, down on the counter, cleaver in her right hand.

 

"God, she's fighting like a wild thing in here," said the voice coming from Gill's mouth. "Too bad there's not a fucking thing she can do about this.”  The cleaver came down, slicing off the top of Mike's ear as he screamed.  Blood started flowing off the edge of the stainless steel counter; a dark puddle spreading across the floor.

 

"Mike, hold the fuck still," Dean warned him in a low voice.

 

"Good advice," Gill mocked.  "You wouldn't want me to miss.  It'll hurt more if I do."

 

"Sonofabitch!" Mike exclaimed, "I've got four kids!"

 

Dean felt very exposed, tucking his gun into his waistband and not having it at the ready.  But while Gill had been busy slicing Mike's ear off, Dean was able to grab the flask of holy water from his inside jacket pocket and forcefully fling the contents onto Gill who howled as her skin sizzled.

 

A growl escaped her throat as Dean watched the cleaver clatter to the counter.  Gill's hand moved to the blood pooling next to Mike's head, and, as if every movement was a struggle, she dipped her finger into the blood, reached for the clean counter on the other side, and wrote out in blood "KILL IT."  Dean understood immediately. 

 

Damn. Gill was strong; strong enough to overpower the thing possessing her for just a second.  She was telling him to kill it, and not to worry about saving her in the process. As far as Dean was concerned _that_ wasn't happening.

 

With a roar, Gill picked up the cleaver again.  "Fucking bitch, thought you might be strong enough," she mumbled as she quickly wiped away the message with her forearm.

 

"Hold on in there, Gill," Dean said, voice low.  Where the fuck was Sam?  He needed to stall and half-wondered why the demon hadn't thrown him against the wall yet.  It must want to play with him first.  Well, demons liked to brag.  Maybe Dean could get it talking.

 

"What's your name?" he asked.  "You know who I am.  Who the fuck are you?"

 

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to know the name of the thing that's gonna kill you...and Mike here...and the guy trying to pick the lock on the kitchen door, back there in the alley right now," Gill's eyes went black and she smiled an evil smile _.  Shit, it knew Sam was out there.  Sam had Ruby's knife._ "I'm Nate."

 

"Nate, huh?  Okay; why go after this town?  These people?" Dean asked.  He had to buy a little time.

 

"Seemed as good a place as any to gather some sacrifices for our Father," Gill's black eyes glinted.

 

"Sacrifices?  Last I checked, your Father was locked the fuck up in a cage, that my brother and I put him in," Dean was suddenly, finally, sailing across the room, smacking into the door of the walk-in refrigerator before sliding to the ground.  He figured he'd hit a nerve.  Clearing his ringing head enough to reach into his pocket, he hit Sam's number on the autodial.  He left the line open; at least Sam might be able to hear everything that was going on.  

 

Gill looked down at Dean with disgust.  "You think your fucking cage can hold him forever?  Newsflash, asshole, it can't and it won't and when he gets out, and he _will_ get out, he's going to notice who amongst his followers kept the flame burning while he was gone.  He's gonna notice me." Nate looked pleased.  "It was easy enough to get some of the so-called 'good people' of this town to trade their souls for a more secure future for their precious families.  That was ten years ago; the natural gas line...  Time's up, bitches."  Gill clamped down harder on Mike's neck as he struggled.  He began to choke, gasping for air.  She'd let him choke until he was on the verge of passing out, then let up so he could get some air in his lungs and keep on living, only to clamp down again.

 

Dean shook his head, trying to get his vision to stop swimming.  "So this is just about padding your soul quota?"

 

"That doesn't hurt," the demon admitted.  "But it's really about this one; this hot piece of ass I'm riding right now; and you should know, she's had some rather impure thoughts about you, Dean."

 

"You don't say," Dean played along.  He tried to calculate how fast he could get to his gun which had fallen from his waistband and skittered about eight feet away when he slammed into the wall.  A bullet wouldn't stop it, but it would slow it down...he _really_ didn't want to shoot Gill though.  Not even a minor wound if he could help it...he hoped like hell that Sam could hear what was going on at the other end of the open line through the cloth of his jacket.  Fucker must have messed with the door lock or Sam would be in here by now.

 

"You know that humans are just animals ruled by greed and lust and selfishness.  This one here though," Gill poked a finger at her own chest, "she's all giving and helpful and makes sure everyone in this town tries to do the right thing.  Makes me fucking sick.  I noticed it when I was hanging around here talking up the townsfolk ten year ago, telling them about all the promise of a new resource...'natural gas'...noticed this one never took the bait.  Never did the wrong thing.  Never borrowed money to buy land.  Never gave in to greed.  Never even fucked the wrong guy for the wrong reasons.  Like I said, made me sick."  Demon Nate was on a roll.  "Couldn't get to her family; she didn't have any then and doesn't have any now; but she loves the people here.  Boy, does she ever.  I figured that the best way to get to her, to have her stop seeing the good in people, would be to start destroying the families she cares about, one by one, so no matter how much effort she put into them, they'd just die in the end, for no good reason, and she wouldn't be able to stop it.  I was doing good too, until you assholes showed up."

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sam was working desperately on the door lock when his phone rang. "D" appeared on the screen.  He answered, hearing nothing but static and a muffled voice that sounded like Gill's.  He strained to hear.  Gill seemed to be talking about herself in the third person. There had to be something riding her.  Sam gave up on the door.  This was taking too long.  He had to get in there.  There was a high, open window next to the back alley...Sam jumped up and grabbed the ledge with his fingertips, pulling himself up by sheer will until he could push the screen in with his elbow.  He scrambled up and over less-than-gracefully, lowering himself down into the hallway inside.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dean was never so glad in his life to see Sam as he was when he caught a glimpse of him rounding the corner behind Gil and ducking behind a the prep island.  Okay, time to really get a rise out of this evil bastard.  "You've been wasting your time on these people," Dean began.  "Your father's never getting out of that cage.  He can't.  There's no way out and no way in and he's just gonna be losing to Michael in there until the fucking sun destroys the earth someday.  Your brownie points with the souls don't mean shit."  Dean felt a tightening sensation around his throat and began to choke.

 

"You of all people know there is _always_ a way." Gill said coldly.  "He's going to get out.  Imagine what he'll say when he learns that I'm the one that killed the assholes who locked him up.  I'm gonna be a fucking king."

 

Sam couldn't stay still when he heard Dean choking.  While Gill was focused on his brother, he made his move.  He was behind Gill with Ruby's knife at her throat in seconds.  "Get out of here," he directed Mike, who didn't have to be told twice and ran for the back exit holding his bleeding ear, sucking down air, coughing as he ran.  "You know what this knife can do," Sam whispered into Gill's ear.  "Let my brother go."  

 

"Aw Sam," the demon growled.  "You might have that knife, but you wouldn't use it on sweet little Gill here."

 

Sam didn't want to, he really didn't, but Dean was choking.  He lightly, as light as he could, drew the blade across the side of Gill's throat.  The wound smoked.  "Don't try me," he replied menacingly.

 

Across the room, Dean gasped as the invisible stranglehold was released.

 

"How many more deals you got coming due in this town?" Sam demanded.

 

" 'Bout five more," Gill replied, head immobile with Ruby's knife at her throat.

 

"Get rid of the contracts," Sam said in a low voice, "and maybe I won't use this knife on you."

 

The demon inside of Gill paused.  There were only two more contracts in this town that hadn't been collected on.  Nate didn't want to be obliterated by that fucking knife that he'd only heard about in legends, but he wasn't going to gamble on the legends being wrong. Time to cut his losses.  Demons were, after all, above everything, selfish.

 

"Done," Gill spat out.  "There were only two fucking contracts left anyway, I won this one asshole."

 

Sam didn't take the bait and launched into the exorcism instead.  Gill's body began to heave, black smoke erupting from her mouth in a rush.  By this time, Dean had staggered to his feet, positioning himself in front of her to catch her body once the demon was gone.

 

When the last of the black smoke had exited the kitchen, Gill's head fell back onto Sam's chest, her body slumping forward into Dean's arms.  Dean was still dizzy from being tossed around by that soulless bastard, but he was able to ease Gill's body down to the floor.  "Sam, towel!" he barked.

 

Sam grabbed a clean kitchen towel from the pile on the shelf under the counter and threw it to his brother.  Dean pressed it to the incision in Gill’s neck.  He sought out a pulse with his other hand and breathed an enormous sigh of relief when he found it.  Dean sat on the floor, Gill's head on his thigh as Sam kneeled next to her.

 

"Is she going to be okay?" Sam asked nervously.  

 

"I think so," Dean was concerned, but sounded like he thought she was probably out of the woods, "thanks to you not getting carried away with that blade.  Good call," Dean looked at Sam with admiration and Sam smiled and ducked his head as he got up. "Where are you going?" Dean asked.

 

Sam didn't reply but returned in a minute with another kitchen towel wrapped around a bag of ice.  "What's that for?" Dean questioned.

 

"I heard you hit the wall," Sam held out the bag though Dean didn't reach to accept it, "You've got a hard head, but not that hard."  

 

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean declared.  Sam didn't listen, instead, moving forward and gently pressing the towel-wrapped ice against the back of his brother's head, causing Dean to wince.

 

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Sam said wryly.

 

"Shut up," Dean shot back.  There was a pause.  "Thanks," Dean said so quietly that Sam wasn't sure he heard it.  Dean reached up to hold the ice against his own head.

 

Gill began to stir from her place on the floor, grabbing her stomach.  Sam had seen this a hundred times before with demon possession and knew exactly what was coming next. He moved quickly, rolling her onto her side and away from Dean so she could vomit violently.  It's like her body just wanted to get rid of _everything_ that had been in there with that darkness, even though Sam knew it would take a lot more than vomiting; probably a few months of counseling at the least.  He mentally vowed to check up on Gill after some time has passed; this amazingly strong-willed woman who had been so kind to him and to Dean over the past few weeks.  He felt a large pang of guilt that she had to endure this.

 

Gill coughed, followed by a deep breath, looking over at Dean's winning smile and Sam's quiet, concerned expression.

 

"Is it dead?" she asked in a ragged voice.

 

"Not dead - " Sam began.

 

"Why the fuck not?" Gill asked.  "I told you to kill it."

 

Dean stepped in.  "No way were we going to kill you in order to kill it."  He moved to help Gill up.  "Easy now," he advised as she stood slowly.

 

"I saw everything it did."  Gill spoke as if in shock.  Sam shrugged off his jacket and put it around her shoulders.  "What happened to it?"

 

"Sam sent it back to hell," Dean replied.  "It's not getting out anytime soon.  It can't hurt the people here anymore."  Dean paused and looked softly into Gill's just-on-the-edge-of-tears eyes.  "It can't hurt you anymore."

 

Gill let one tear slip.  Dean pulled her to him and she gratefully allowed it, relaxing in his arms.  Sam stepped away re-appearing with a glass of water which she accepted with a shaky breath.

 

After she had a chance to take a few sips, Dean asked, "How in the hell were you able to send us that message?" slight awe in his voice.

 

"I don't know," Gill sounded exhausted.  "I just concentrated really hard on keeping your usual order a secret; so it wouldn't know that I wasn't doing what you expected."

 

"Damn," Dean commented with admiration.  "And the blood on the counter?"

 

"Oh God, Mike," Gill remembered, swaying slightly in Dean's arms as he tightened his grip on her.

 

"Mike's gonna be okay," Sam reassured her.  "We'll talk to him."  Dean nodded in agreement.

 

"It was my hand doing it; I was cutting him, and I couldn't stop it," she choked out.

 

"Shhhh...I know," Dean kept her pulled tightly against his chest.  "But Jesus, I don't think I've ever seen anyone able to overpower one of those evil sonsofbitches  long enough to break through and write us a note."

 

"You know," Gill replied in a small voice, "when it was in me, it felt like a million crawling centipedes under my skin.  Like the worst nausea you could imagine.  The anger and sadness was worse than anything I've ever felt.  That's how I knew that it hated everything good.  It despised it.  I concentrated as hard as I could on everyone and everything I loved and it didn't seem to know what to do with that.  It was confused for a second and that's when I was able to take over.  But it didn't last."

 

"Fucking amazing," Dean shook his head.  "You got through though.  You're one tough chick."

 

Gill finally smiled a small smile.  "You two are pretty tough chicks yourselves."

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_Two days later....on Sam's birthday:_

 

Sam opened the bathroom door.  He had a towel wrapped around his waist and another draped over his head as he scrubbed it through his wet hair.  He'd heard the motel room door creak open on its cheap hinges so he knew he wasn't alone anymore.  From under the towel he mumbled, "Thanks for going out for food, man, I'm starving....Jesus Christ, Dean!" he dropped the towel once his eyes made their way to one of the beds.  

 

Dean was kneeling on the bed, shirt off, fly open, with his hands around the narrow waist of the woman in front of him.  She was already naked from the waist down.  He was kissing her slow and deep.  Breaking the kiss, he drawled, "Heya, Sammy."  The woman twisted in Dean's arms to face Sam.

 

"Gill?" Sam asked, brow furrowed in confusion.  "Dean, you shoulda called first. What the fuck," he stammered, embarrassed.

 

Gill smiled a warm, inviting smile.  "Dean told me it was your birthday.  I thought, maybe...."

 

"What?" Sam asked, disbelieving.  Then he got a clue.  "Oh, oh God, Gill, really, you don't have to..."

 

She put her hand up to stop him from talking, "This isn't 'have to'," she said quietly. "This is 'want to'.  That is, if you're up for it."

 

Sam's cock was seemingly trying to take the towel around his waist off under its own power; pushing insistently with sudden, incredible want up under the spot where he had the terrycloth tucked into itself.

 

Dean cast a glance down at the obscene bulge in the towel and offered, "I think astronauts on the space station could see that he's up for it."  

 

Sam blushed scarlet from chest to forehead.  

 

"Aw, c'mon Sammy," Dean took pity on him.  "The woman said she needed to blow off some steam tonight.  I think we owe it to her after what she's been through."  He smiled as he put a hand behind her neck, encouraging her to turn back to him for another kiss.  

 

Sam stared, feeling rooted to the ground and completely powerless to move or turn away from the scene in front of him.

 

Gill broke the kiss, a bit breathless.  "You do owe me," she smiled wickedly.  "You _both_ owe me."  She held out a hand to Sam, keeping her other arm casually draped around Dean's shoulder.

 

Sam somehow remembered how to put one foot in front of the other and a second later he had taken her hand and was standing behind her kneeling form.  Sam reluctantly began kissing her neck from behind while Dean explored her mouth with his tongue.

 

Dean pulled back a tiny bit.  "Do you think maybe you could undo your hair?" he asked her.  

 

Gill smiled and raised an eyebrow, "Sure, but you might have to hold it back for me in a minute."  Dean's cock pressed hard and thick against her waist between them.  She undid the elastic holding her hair back.

 

Dean drew in his breath for a second because her hair was exactly the length he'd hoped. It fell to just below her chin and hung down in front of her eyes when she looked up at him.  

 

Sam's chin-length hair was tickling Gill's breast as it fell over her shoulder and she groaned and leaned back against him and into his kisses on her neck.  Her nipples showed hard and sensitive under the no-nonsense black bra.

 

Dean reached behind her and undid her bra with one hand.  His knuckles brushed against his brother's chest and if he lingered there, taking more time with the bra than he really needed to, well, he'd never admit it.  "That's better," he said, tossing the bra to the floor.

 

Gill's breasts were full and soft with nipples aroused enough to cut glass.  Dean lowered his head and began to lick - adding in some gentle suction - first one hard nib of flesh, then the other.   He settled on her left side, grazing her nipple with his teeth and a shiver ran down her spine. She threaded her fingers through his hair and let her head fall back, against Sam's chest. Pressing her left breast forward between Dean's lips, she moaned as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue.

 

She felt Sam's large hand resting lightly on her hip and reached down, lacing her fingers over his, pulling it up to her right side.  His hands were warm, his palm easily covering her breast before he circled her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and middle finger; making her gasp with with a brief pinch followed by a gentle caress as he continued to kiss her neck from behind.

 

Jesus, this was making her unbelievably wet.  She reached down to touch Dean in front of her and felt his full, silky length, already leaking a little.  

 

Dean closed his eyes and bit his lower lip at her touch; she felt a chill as he inhaled sharply, air rushing over her overly-aroused, spit-slicked nipple.

 

"Ya know," she breathed out quietly, "this tongue stud can be put to very good use, I'm told."  

 

"Jesus Christ," was all Dean could manage.  He went to reach for the night stand drawer, but Gill put a hand on his arm.  He looked at her, questioningly.  "I'm clean.  On the pill.  You?”

 

"Tested four weeks ago, no one since," Dean said matter-of-factly, as if this was something people reported out to each other every day.

 

"Sam?"  She asked over her shoulder.

 

"Um, tested four months ago.  I was clean.  No one since," he couldn't quite believe they were having this conversation.

 

"Good," Gill proclaimed.  " 'Cause I fuckin' hate latex."

 

Dean smiled the smile he usually reserved only for Christmas morning.  No condoms. Fuck.  It felt risky and hot as hell and this was gonna be....amazing.  "You were saying....something about that stud in your tongue?"

 

"I'll take that as a yes."  She gave him one more kiss, biting his lip as she did so, moving to kiss her way down his chest.  

 

On all fours, she looked up at Dean through her bangs and he almost came right then and there.  "Hold my hair, would you?" she asked.

 

Dean gently pushed her hair back and held it there, hand on the side of her head.  He looked down in appreciation at what she was about to do for him.  "You let me know if you need to tap out, 'kay?" he exhaled shakily.

 

"You think I'm gonna need to tap out?" she challenged him.  "This ain't my first rodeo.” Her hot tongue licked a stripe up Dean's cock from base to tip and he brought his other hand up to the cradle the other side of her face. A stream of curses fell from his lips.

 

****

 

Sam watched Gill's lips move up and down Dean's cock.  They had never done anything like this together.   It was his brother.  He was watching his brother get a blow job and he felt like he was going to explode.  He told himself it was just like watching porn, right? Not that weird.  Watching someone else getting off is a turn-on.  Who wouldn't get off on watching that incredible cock, that thick, long - _'just shut up and watch her mouth'_ he internally chastised himself.  Those lips surrounding Dean in soft, perfect pressure - he wanted nothing more than to press his aching cock into her undoubtedly tight, wet heat; to be a part of what was going on right there in front of him, but he barely knew her and he wasn't quite as sexually free as his brother was.  "Oh fuck," he heard Dean moan. "That stud is...fucking...amazing."   Sam's need was starting to overcome the shyness and he didn't stop his hand from tentatively reaching down; stroking insistently between her legs.  She was so ready that her inner thighs were slick far below the point where she was making his hand slippery.  The way she had leaned into his touch on her breast gave him a small measure of confidence as he continued to stroke her.

 

"So fucking wet," Sam breathed out.  She pressed back against his hand, wanting more pressure.  Wanting more of everything.

 

****

 

Dean felt the hard stud running up and down his length as she moved on him.  She used it to circle under the head with her tongue, running it right up the sensitive slit causing him to flinch in a wave of pleasure.  "Fuck, Sammy, you have no fucking idea," he mumbled.

 

Gill pulled off, stroking Dean with her hand for a second instead.  She looked back over her shoulder, "Please Sam, please...I need to feel you."   Sam looked quickly up at Dean for direction without even realizing he was doing it.  Dean gave him a quick nod, "Do it, Sammy," he said, voice deep.

 

****

 

Sam pressed in close behind her, sliding his straining cock between her legs.  She closed her thighs around him as he groaned and started to set up a rhythm.   Staying outside, he slid through her abundance wetness, rubbing her clit insistently on every pass as she began to move her hips in unison with his thrusts.

 

****

 

Gill had her mouth back around Dean by this point and was working ever lower.  Finally, his short blonde curls ticked her nose and the head of his cock bumped insistently against the back of her throat.  She was just about to pull off to give Sam some further instruction when she heard Dean say, "C'mon Sammy, she wants you to fuck her."  She managed a "Mmm...hmmm" in agreement that did nothing but add to the incredible sensation Dean was feeling around his cock.  He threw his head back, groaning, "Jesus Christ."

 

****

 

Sam pulled back from between her thighs and she whimpered, then a muffled moan as Sam slid one large finger inside her, adding a second, stroking insistently and steadily until she was ready for a third.  He was so damn hard.  She soaked his hand until his three fingers were sliding in easily up to the last knuckle.  He took a deep breath, pulling his hand back and getting a slippery grasp on her hip instead, as he exhaled slowly and steadily pushed his entire length deep into her silky warmth until her ass met the soft trail of hair leading south from his navel.  

 

****

 

She moaned around Dean's cock, the vibration layering one more level of complexity onto the crushing landslide of sensations that were washing over him.  

 

****

 

Dean opened his eyes to see Sam, a hand on each of Gill's hips, pulling out and pushing back in, all the way to the base, as she grunted and ground back against him.  He could just see over the curve of her perfect ass and couldn't stop looking at Sam's dark, swollen cock, shiny with her wetness as he thrust into her and pulled back out with ever-increasing speed.  He was glad Sam had his eyes closed, allowing him to stare the way he wanted to.  He noticed that, as Sam sped up, the slide of Gill’s lips on his cock sped up too.  He held her head and fucked her mouth to Sam's rhythm.  It was just about the hottest thing he'd ever experienced.

 

Suddenly, Sam choked out a "De -," let go of one of Gill's hips, and held out his hand to Dean.  

 

Dean didn't think.  He never thought whenever Sam reached for him because if Sam was reaching, he needed him and Dean wasn't going to question why.   Sam could have been reaching for him through the flames surrounding his crib...he could have been reaching out to be helped up from the school yard when a bully knocked him down and Dean wanted to be sure to help him up right before he beat the shit out of whoever had dared to put his brother down like that...he could have been reaching out to be hauled into a hug after too long apart from each other…he could have been reaching out searching for forgiveness after a particularly brutal argument...if Sam was reaching for him, he was reaching back; never any question about it; he didn't need a reason.  

 

He let go of Gill's head with one hand and wrapped his fingers around Sam's forearm. He felt Sam's fingers close around his arm, just above his wrist, like an arc weld; sending a searing spark of heat followed by a grip that felt like his brother was attempting to permanently fuse the surface of their bodies together at that exact point.  He felt the electric pulse run hot from his brother's fingertips, taking the path of least resistance through his entire body, erupting through his cock.  

 

"Oh God – oh FUUUUUUUUUCK!"  

 

Gill was between them, completing the circuit.  Dean gripped her hair tight with his free hand and came hard down her throat.  

 

****

 

Sam felt her body tighten around his cock as his brother's release unexpectedly flooded her mouth.  He felt an intense, buzzing heat surround him where he was buried inside Gill.  

 

He was gone.  

 

He drove deep - unloading with a cry - pushing Gil forward, her mouth pressed even further down on Dean's cock as his brother kept coming hot and thick into her mouth.

 

****

 

Gill pulled off of Dean for a breath, "You coulda warned me," she coughed out, hand reflexively coming up to her throat as she swallowed.  

 

Dean stared into Sam's eyes with a look of surprise and slight confusion, not looking down at Gill at all, "Sorry, uh, it kinda took me by surprise."  He wasn't sure what to make of the fact that Sam blushed again, or the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he'd ever come that hard, but he didn't have time to analyze it because suddenly his arm was cold where his brother let go.  Sam was hauling Gill up, pulling her to face him, taking her head in his hands and attacking her mouth with a kiss.  

 

****

 

Gill felt Sam's need.  

 

He was kissing her like a starving man and she opened her mouth for him.  She had some idea what he was after as his tongue searched.  Yeah, these two definitely had issues and she wondered if they had any clue.  She really didn't care though; this was exactly what she'd been hoping for tonight.

 

She responded to Sam kissing her until he had licked her mouth clean of Dean's release. Sam suddenly broke the kiss, gasping for air as she did the same.

 

****

 

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean stared unabashedly at Sam's intensity, unable to tear his eyes away.  

 

Dean moved up behind Gill as she kneeled in front of a still-standing Sam at the end of the bed.  He rubbed his over-sensitive cock between the cheeks of her ass as Sam moved back in for another rough kiss.  He whispered to her, "Did you?"  

 

When Sam took a breath, allowing her a second to respond, she said, "No, not yet."

 

"Don't stop, Sammy," Dean instructed firmly, closing his eyes, rubbing against her, allowing her to feel that he wasn't going to leave her hanging.  Telling Sam what to do and having Sam obey him may have had something to do with his incredibly fast recovery time.  Sam following his instructions, just trusting him and not questioning, just  _doing_ ; it did things to him that he couldn't explain.  His cock didn't seem to need any sort of explanation though; it was definitely on board with this, filling rapidly.  Sam didn't stop; only now he was slowing down; the kisses turning deep and sensual.  Dean reached around between Gill and his brother, easily sliding his hand downward until he was stroking her swollen clit in perfect circles.  If his forearm was rubbing up against something else, something that was rapidly getting hard again, so what - he was a decent guy and was not going to leave her hanging.  She moaned into Sam's mouth and moved with Dean's touch as he moved his other hand to enter her with three thick, powerful fingers from behind while he kept stroking.  

 

She cried out as a pulse of liquid soaked his palm.  He felt a pang of guilt; of course he was going to get her off, but this, right here?  This is what he really wanted.  Just as he hoped, as she spread her thighs wider, urging his fingers deeper, he felt something tickle as it rolled down his wrist.  For just a minute, he pulled his hand away and brought it to his mouth, licking off the thick, white substance.

 

_Sammy._

 

Dean's own cock was already hard again.  How was that even possible?  With the taste of Sam in his mouth, the certainty that he wanted to be exactly where Sam had just been, and Gill open wide in front of him, he pushed his heavy cock inside her to cries of "Oh God, Dean, yeah."

 

****

 

Gill felt like she was trapped in some kind of insanely erotic vice.  Surrounded on both sides by the press of warm skin and muscle and two silkly-hard cocks; one growing longer in her hand as she stroked Sam, tightening her grip as she went, melting into his soft lips and strong tongue; another pressing in from behind; thick and filling her perfectly in an unrelenting press of skill and precision and sheer fucking hot. Dean's hand on her clit never stopped, never broke the rhythm.  God, it was too much.  And not enough.  She spread her thighs wide until they shook with the strain, allowing Dean to go even deeper and she could tell by the sound he made that she wasn't the only one about to lose it.

 

****

 

Dean didn't know why he did what he did next.  It just popped into his brain and at this point, hanging right on the edge, it wasn't like there was much of a filter between his brain and his mouth.  Never letting up for a second, he got close to Gill's ear and whispered, "say 'Sammy'."

 

****

 

Gill was beyond reason.  Beyond questioning or needing to know or even wanting to ask why.  Who the hell cared "why" at this point?  What the hell.  Maybe Dean was trying to give his brother the cherry on top of his birthday sundae, so to speak.  The bow on the present.  The final touch.

 

She could not have been more wrong.  Dean's request had nothing to do with anything he thought Sam wanted.

 

"Oh God, Oh God," she cried, voice rising.  She was so close.  She stroked Sam harder as Dean picked up the pace from behind, "Oh fuck yeah," it was building and she couldn't help but let it crash.  "Yes, oh God,  that's it, God, Sammy, yes!"  Her tight grip on Sam's cock became more and more slippery.

 

****

 

Dean felt her spasm around him, hard.  Her internal muscles rippled up and down his entire length.  He meant to maintain control, he really did; wanted to let her ride him out through all of the aftershocks as he plunged into her crushing heat with Sam's earlier release slicking the way, but he'd just heard her say what he was already screaming in his own head and hearing it, out loud, he couldn't hold on.  He'd been looking over her shoulder; watching her stroke Sam and with his eyes on that incredible cock and Sam's name; _his_ name for _his_ brother that only he was allowed to use, ringing in his ears.  He pulled out and gave himself a few rough, desperate strokes - he needed release so badly it almost hurt - his eyes fixed on Gill's hand around Sam, stealing glances up at his brother's blissful face as he thrust into Gill's grip and she stroked him with a perfect rhythm.   Sam was so huge and...so fucking gorgeous and....suddenly "Fuck -" Dean closed his eyes, image of Sam's cock behind his eyelids, and he was shooting hot and white all over Gill's back.

 

****

 

Sam thought he heard Gill call him 'Sammy' and a surge of fluid released, unbidden, from his cock.  No one called him that but Dean.  How could she know?  It had almost made him come.  This most definitely was _not_ Gill's first rodeo; she was stroking him like a pro.  It felt beyond amazing; he was so lost in the sensations that maybe he hadn't heard right, but the surprise of it made him open his eyes just in time to catch sight of his brother's face as he gave it up.  

 

Dean's forehead was lined in concentration, his eyes closed, long eyelashes pressed against his cheeks. Mouth open, he bit his bottom lip as he thrust into his own fist, hips rocking forward and back until his body stilled and only his hand continued to fly over his cock, gripping and pressing and squeezing and sliding. His brother was....beautiful - the only unexpectedly perfect word that sprang to mind - and that's all Sam needed.  He shot thickly over Gill's breasts with a cry.

 

****

 

Gill twisted to kiss Dean behind her.  Damn, he was good.  He’d left her feeling completely fucked-out and satisfied.  

 

She turned back to Sam, still breathing hard, and gently kissed his jaw.  He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to him, not caring about the slippery mess between their bodies.  She arched her neck into Dean's kiss on her shoulder from behind as Sam held on tight and quietly said, "Thank you."

 

"Nothing to thank me for, sweetie," she whispered back to him, bringing her hand up and lightly scratching the base of his skull.  "I should be thanking you."  

 

Sam pulled back and Gill was surprised to see the swirling emotion in his eyes.  He swallowed hard.  

 

****

 

Behind them, Dean gave Sam's forearm, wrapped around Gill's waist, a brief grip with his hand, running the fingers of his other hand gently up and down her back, trailing through his own release as he did so.  His knees were starting to get a bit stiff.  

 

He cleared his throat and looked resolutely into Sam's eyes from his place behind Gill.  "Everyone okay?" he asked, voice rough.

 

****

 

Gill was surprised for the second time in as many minutes.  He sounded oddly fragile, oddly open, for such a tough guy.

 

****

 

Sam nodded and smiled a small, shy smile, "Yeah, I'm good."   He briefly put his hand on top of Dean's on his forearm and thought he must be delirious or dehydrated when he felt something like a spark strike between their skin.  He saw Dean furrow his brow for just a fleeting second before he let go.  

 

"I'm better than good," Gill chimed in.  "But...I could stand to get cleaned up a bit."

 

"Sure, of course," Dean reluctantly moved to stand on his aching knees.  "I'm just gonna run in and get some towels, but then, ladies first.  Help her up, Sam," he directed.

 

****

 

Sam easily wrapped an arm around Gill's waist, helping her stand.  "You sure you're okay?" she looked at him with concern when Dean was out of sight.  

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dean closed the bathroom door, leaned heavily against it, and let himself slide slowly down to the floor.  

 

Holy fuck.  

 

Never.  It had never ever been like that for him and that was saying something.  Dean thought of himself as pretty experienced and he'd never experienced anything like that.  That feeling, when Sam grabbed him.  What in the holy fuck _was_ that?!  It was fucking addictive is what it was.  He'd never come so fast from just a touch; a touch that had been nowhere near his cock.  Sure, his cock had been deep in Gill's throat at the time; that probably had a lot to do with it.  Damn she was hot.  And skilled.  More fucking skilled than anyone who'd done that for him before.  But he hadn't spent a lot of time watching her, as much as he'd loved what she had been doing to him.  He hadn't expected he'd feel this...this...intensity and he quickly wiped his eyes, willing down the lump in his throat.  Gill was waiting for a shower.  He had to pull his shit together.  Now.  It was a special night.  A one-time thing.  Sam's birthday.  That's all it was.  Something he wanted to give Sam and it had looked like Sam enjoyed it, so it was all good, right?  

 

He stood shakily, splashing some cold water on his face, and just as he was about to rinse his mouth, he decided not to.  There was a lingering sweet/salty taste there that he didn't want to rinse away.  Ever.  He got a washcloth wet and wiped himself down, wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed another towel/washcloth combo for Sam.  

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

 

On the other side of the bathroom door, Gill's question to Sam still hung in the air.

 

"You kidding?" Sam replied.  "It's just, uh, it's been a long time.  You've been so good to me.  To us."

 

"You were good to me too," Gill smiled wickedly.  "Frankly, you're one hot as hell fuck and it would be a cryin' shame to let that go to waste."  Sam blushed deeply.  Gill furrowed her brow, "You gotta take care of yourself, Sam.  There's more to life than work."

 

Sam, still flustered at her compliment, let his hair fall in front of his eyes, hiding his face.

 

"I'm just saying you just...you deserve to have what you need."

 

Sam breathed out slowly, "It's not that simple sometimes," it was so quiet Gill could barely hear.  "What I want isn’t something that - "

 

Sam snapped his mouth closed as Dean emerged from the bathroom, towel around his waist, body glistening from the recent wipe-down.  He threw a towel and a wet washcloth at Sam.  He caught it easily and, wrapping the towel around his waist, gestured toward the bathroom door.  "Like Dean said, ladies first."

 

Gill gave Sam a questioning look before standing on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.  She smiled a sly smile as she walked past Dean, playfully undoing his towel as she went by, "Hey!" he yelled, grabbing it before it fell.

 

Sam was actually disappointed that Dean was able to grab the towel and keep himself covered.  What the fuck was wrong with him?  This was his _brother_.

 

"Get the oven up to 425 for the pizza," Gill called over her shoulder as she closed the bathroom door.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

When Sam heard the shower start running, he turned to Dean, voice hushed, "Dean, what _was_ that?"

 

"That, Sammy, was a generous and amazing woman," Dean declared.

 

Sam hadn't been asking about Gill, but he let it drop.  Maybe he had been the only one who felt it.

 

****

 

Dean knew Sam hadn't been referring to Gill, but whatever had happened when Sam reached out for him and he reached back scared the shit out of him.  It had been the most incredible thing he'd ever felt. He fucking _came_ as soon as Sam's fingers had closed around his arm.  He already wanted to feel it again, and it made his chest ache to know that he never would.  No fucking way could he talk about it.  

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

With everyone cleaned up and dressed, they sat around drinking beers and eating the take 'n' bake pizza Gill brought from the bar and cooked in the kitchenette oven.  Dean made sure she had included a huge salad for Sam.

 

When the pizza had been reduced to nothing but a few crusts, Dean declared, "Cake time," heading to the little fridge to take out the cake he'd gotten earlier from the bakery down the street.  Vanilla with dark chocolate frosting and strawberry filling.  Sounded like something Sam would like.

 

Gill stood up slowly, "I had a very very **_very_**  good time," she smiled knowingly, looking from Dean to Sam and back again.  "Thanks for having me - and I mean that every way you want to take it.”

 

Sam laughed and Dean got up to give her a hug goodbye.  "No chick flick moments," Gill teased.  

 

"You did not just say that," Sam couldn't hide the surprise in his voice.

 

"What?" Gill asked, "I say that all the time."

 

Sam huffed out a small laugh.  "Man," he said to his brother, "I think you just had sex with yourself."

 

"Wouldn't be the first time," Dean shot back sarcastically.  "But if I just had sex with myself, what does that say about what you just did?"  Dean regretted it as soon as it came out.  He noticed that Sam suddenly fell silent.

 

"Hello, still in the room!" Gill interjected as she walked over to Dean.  She hugged him, giving him a long, lingering kiss.  

 

"You sure you don't want some cake?" Dean asked when she broke the kiss.

 

"No, I'm good.  Better than good," she smiled.  "You two enjoy the rest of Sam's birthday."  She walked over to Sam and tipped his head back, kissing him softly.  "Happy birthday, Sam," she said gently, eyes soft, hoping Sam could see how much she’d enjoyed herself.

 

"I don't know what to say," Sam stammered.  "I've never had a birthday like this one."

 

"Good," Gill declared.  "I've never given anyone a present like this one.  You girls have fun," she teased as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door.  "Stop in before you leave town tomorrow, okay?"

 

"Definitely," Dean replied and then the door closed and they were alone.  Together.

 

"Oh, shit, almost forgot the candles," Dean went back to work on the cake as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened that night.

 

Sam let out a small laugh and shook his head.  He wondered how Dean could be so casual about it all sometimes.  Sure, fucking Gill felt good.   _Really_ good.  It had been _way_ too long.  But had Dean felt it?   Sam had never felt anything like it before in his life.  He hadn't been thinking.  He'd reached for Dean out of instinct and Dean had reached back for him and that _thing_ he felt had been so mind blowing he didn't know how to even begin to wrap his brain around it.  

 

****

 

Dean was feeling anything _but_ casual.  Inside, his stomach was doing flips; threatening to unseat the pizza at any moment.  What the fuck happened tonight?  He was totally fine with sharing with Sam.  But he hadn't expected to be so incredibly turned on just because Sam was there, with him, watching him, doing that with Gill _with him_.  How was he ever going to have regular sex again?  This was...this was beyond anything he had ever experienced.  He didn't expect he'd ever convince Sam to try this again and he didn't know how he was going to live the rest of his life without it.

 

"Make a wish, Sammy," Dean instructed, setting the cake down in front of his brother, determined to keep it light; no way was he ever letting Sam know what was really going on in his head.  "The big three-o; better make it count."

 

****

 

Sam closed his eyes and wished.

 

He wished it was still yesterday - May 1st.  Wished he had this day to live over again.  He absentmindedly wondered where was a fuckin' Trickster when you wanted one?

 

He blew out the three candles.  

 

He didn't know when it had started, probably some year when they couldn't afford enough candles...they always added their birthday year to determine the number of candles...15?   1 + 5 = you got 6 candles.  28?  You got 10 which then added up to one candle.  So 30 meant 3.

 

****

 

"What'd you wish for?" Dean asked.

 

"Can't tell you," Sam smiled, though Dean thought he sensed some tinge of sadness that really shouldn't be there; not tonight..."Pretty sure it won't come true anyway.  Pretty sure it can't."

 

"Aw, come on, Sammy," Dean prodded him, reaching over to rough up his hair as Sam attempted to duck out of reach.  "You never know; this is a major birthday; anything can happen, right?"

 

"Yeah, maybe," Sam replied quietly.

 

Sam had known, deep down, for a long time.  Since the very first time, really.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

June 5, 1992.  

 

Dean woke suddenly to the sound of Sam choking and gasping for air in the motel room bed just feet away from his own and he knew immediately.  The burning house nightmare.  #1 on the long roster of Sam's recurring nightmares.  

 

He was out of his bed and shaking Sam awake before he was really awake himself.  

 

"Hey, Sammy, c'mon man, wake up, it's okay."

 

Sam squinted open his ten-year-old eyes.  "Dean?  Where...where am I?"

 

"You're in the motel.  Just me and you, kid.  Everything's okay."  He rested his hand at the back of his little brother's neck, trying to calm him down.  Sam suddenly grabbed onto him, burying his face in his white threadbare t-shirt that he always slept in.  He sighed and closed his arms around him, squeezing tight until his brother's breathing slowed to normal.  When he tried to pull away, Sam didn't let go.

 

"Look, I know you're too old for this but I'm tired; so you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?" he asked patiently, feeling Sam's response as he nodded against his chest.

 

"Okay, just don't hog the covers," he warned as he let go of his brother and listened to Sam quietly shuffle the few feet to the other bed.  His little brother was getting close to as tall as he was; the little pest had started outgrowing pajamas on a weekly basis, it seemed, until finally he'd just given up and started sleeping in boxer shorts and one of Dean's old Metallica t-shirts.  

 

Dean laid down facing one way, Sam facing the other, his little brother pressed up tight against his back.  With very little fabric between them, he could feel the heat of his brother's body.  "You're a fucking furnace," he groused.  

 

"Sorry," came the small reply.  "Dean?"

 

"Yeah, what?"

 

"Thanks."

 

"Don't mention it.  Go to sleep."

 

He lay awake until he heard Sam's breathing even out.  Only then did he allow himself to close his eyes.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was a gray pre-dawn outside when he woke to the sound of quiet sniffling.  Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, his back shaking slightly.

 

"Hey, Sammy, what's -"  he paused when he put a hand down on the bed to push himself up, right down into a wet spot.  "Jesus, Sam, what the hell?  I told you not to drink that soda before you fell asleep last night."

 

"I didn't piss the bed, jerk," Sam shot back, his voice shaky.  "At least, I don't think I did."

 

"Then what the fuck?"

 

"I don't know what happened," Sam said between sniffles.  "I was dreaming.  But it was a good dream.  A really good one.  Then I woke up and...."

 

Oh.  Okay.  Dean was all too capable of teasing his little brother until he'd locked himself in the bathroom just to make it stop and this was a prime opportunity if there ever was one.  But, poor kid, how was he supposed to know?  No one had ever told Dean what to expect.  He'd had to figure it out on his own and when it started happening it had scared the shit out of him.  Now his brother was the one who was scared and he understood completely.

 

These days it seemed like Dean spent 80% of his time with a fucking hard on.  Everything made him hard.  Of course stuff like the Victoria's Secret catalog...but also the saggy boobs on the checker at the grocery store, that time he caught that douchebag Chet jerking off in the school locker room, the thick liquid that would surge out of Sam's stupid bottle of conditioner in the shower when Dean gave it a squeeze just to watch it surge, the tree he walked past with the hole in it that looked like it might be a good fit...Jesus, it was fucking ridiculous.  

 

The only "sex talk" he'd ever had was two years ago when Uncle Bobby threw back a highball half full of Jack and asked him if he'd gotten any "hair down there" yet.  He had been mortified and shot back, "None of your damn business," before he could catch himself.  Bobby cuffed him on the back of the head and told him not to sass him - show a little respect - and then hurriedly shoved a pack of condoms into his hand and a wrinkled pamphlet mumbling something about how he needed to "read that" and "look out for yourself."  The least he could do was try to give his little brother a clue.  Give him better than he'd gotten.

 

He sat up and scooted over next to Sam, wiping his hand on the sheet as he went,

 

"Hey," he pressed his shoulder against Sam's.  His brother looked up at him through his long bangs.  "You know what this means?"

 

"That I'm a freak?" Sam had a hopeless, defeated tone.

 

"Well, that's already an established fact."

 

"Shut up," his brother looked away but he wasn't going to accept that; not this time.

 

"Look, I was just kidding.  Look at me, Sammy."

 

Sam continued to stare at the opposite corner of the room, as if he hoped it held all the answers.

 

Dean took a deep breath.  "It means you're not a kid anymore."

 

Now he had his brother's attention; Sam furrowed his brow in confusion.  "What happened was a fucking wet dream.  It's normal.  It's only happened to every other guy that ever lived."

 

"Really?" Sam asked, looking at him like he desperately wanted to believe what he was saying.

 

"Really.  Why the hell you think I got so good at laundry about three years ago?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

"You mean...you?"  Sam's eyes were wide.  

 

"Yeah 'me'," he gently shoved Sam's shoulder again.  

 

He watched as his brother rolled this new information around in his brain,  "You _are_ good at laundry..."

 

"Damn straight.  And this, you know, what just happened, at night; it happens more if you don't jerk off enough.  I've got some porn if you ever wanna borrow it...it's -"

 

"Under your sweatshirt in the bottom of your bag," Sam looked guilty, but just proud enough to get under Dean's skin.

 

"You little shit.  Stay outta my stuff!"

 

"But you just said -"

 

He rolled his eyes.  "Yeah, okay, borrow it whenever you want even though I guess you weren't gonna wait for permission."

 

They sat in silence for a minute.

 

"So, what is it?" Sam asked in a small voice.

 

"What's what?"

 

"The white stuff.  What is it?"

 

"Look, it's not like you never touched yourself before, right?"

 

"God, Dean!" he watched his little brother's cheeks flame red with embarrassment.

 

"Well, now you get to have the finale at the end of the firework show, alright?"

 

"What?"

 

"Nevermind.  Look, you know how babies are made, right?"

 

"Duh."

 

"Well, it's baby juice."

 

" 'baby juice'?"

 

"The white stuff is what gets chicks pregnant."  Sam looked skeptical.  "Look, Jesus, why do I have to explain this," Dean said to no one in particular.  "You get your dick hard and, believe, me, that's not gonna be a problem.  Then you put it between her legs and you rub it back and forth until the white stuff shoots out and then she can get pregnant."

 

"I don't wanna do that!" his brother recoiled, fear on his face.

 

"No one's asking you to do that, dumbass," he scoffed.  "Just telling you that's what it's for."

 

"Have you, you know, done that?" Sam asked him.

 

"None of your business," he shot back, but his brother just kept looking at him like he really wanted an answer.

 

"Shit," he sighed. "No, I haven't done it yet, but Rhonda and I were kissing once and she kinda grabbed me through my jeans and I went off."

 

"In your jeans?!" Sam's eyes were huge.

 

"Yes, Jesus fuck, in my jeans.  It's hard to control it sometimes.  I don't think she knew though.  Told her I had to go take a piss and cleaned myself off."

 

He could see by the look on Sam's face that his little brother had about a million more questions that he was too shy to ask.  Yet.  He knew the kid would only be able to keep his questions to himself for now though, and when they eventually came tumbling out, he'd have to find a way to dodge the ones about his personal life that were none of the little bitch's business.

 

"So, what'd you dream about?" Dean suddenly wanted to know.

 

 ** _You_**.  "Don't remember," Sam said, voice tight.

 

"Liar," he prodded.  "You always remember everything you dream about.  So who was it?"

 

 ** _You._**    "Leave me alone."

 

"Amy from school?"

 

"Shut up."

 

"Gillian Anderson?"

 

"Agent Scully?" Sam looked questioningly up at him.

 

"Yeah, Agent Scully."

 

"No.  She's pretty though.  Smart too."

 

Dean rolled his eyes.  Sam _would_ get off on someone being smart.  "Okay, then, Pamela Anderson?"

 

"That chick from that beach show?"

 

"Yeah, it's called Baywatch, idiot."

 

"No.  She's not that smart."

 

"Pamela Anderson doesn't _have_ to be smart, Sammy," he smiled wickedly.

 

His brother just looked confused.  "Whaddya mean?  Everyone needs to be smart."

 

"Nevermind."

 

"Are they sisters?" Sam asked with sincerity.

 

"Who?" Dean was lost.

 

"Gillian Anderson and Pamela Anderson.  I mean, they have the same last name."

 

His geeky little brother was always doing shit like this; trying to make connections and reach conclusions.  It's like it's how his nerdy little brain was wired.  "Uh, I don't think so," he stammered wondering what the fuck that had to do with the conversation they were having.  But what if they were sisters?  Now his brain was going in a whole new direction and if he wanted to keep from actually demonstrating a stiffy in front of his little brother, he was going to have to start thinking about something else and fast.  Like dead cats.  Or dad walking in on him jerking off...okay, that did it.  That one was always a surefire boner killer.  What were they talking about?  Oh yeah....

 

"Okay then; Gary from the front desk?"

 

"Gross!  No!"

 

"Dog?  Horse?  Vegetable?"

 

Sam looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

 

"I'm just sayin' that it doesn't make sense, these dreams, and they don't mean anything.  I dream about the girls that hit on dad...the guy that sold us oil for the Impala last week...and it's just because your body's goin' nuts so whatever you were dreaming about, it's okay.  Okay?"

 

Sam looked up at him, incredulous.  "The guy that sold us oil?"

 

"Yeah, how fucked up is that?"

 

"Very."  Sam finally smiled and he smiled back, roughing up his kid brother's hair.

 

"When it started happening to me, I was dreaming about some weird shit, man.  I thought something was wrong with me.  Then, one day when I was waiting for your ass in the library after school, I found this story in this medical journal; that's like a magazine for doctors."

 

"I know what a medical journal is, Dean."

 

"Well, this story - "

 

"Article."

 

"What?"

 

"I don't think they have stories in medical journals; you were reading an article."

 

"Shut up.  Story, article, whatever, that's not the point, who gives a shit what you call it - anyway, it said that guys have wet dreams about all kinds of shit.  You can even have a sex dream about your uncle.  Or your dad."

 

A look of sheer horror crossed Sam's face.  "Did you ever...about dad?"

 

"God no!  That'd make me want to kill myself."

 

"Totally."

 

The dream that had compelled him to look for answers in the library was the one about Sam.  

 

Once, okay, but by the tenth time, he wondered what kind of screwed up sick fuck he was.  His dreams with Sam were always similar.  But in his dreams, Sam was bigger than he was.  Stronger too.  What the fuck kind of sense did that make?  Sam was his kid brother.  Sam was always holding him down, kissing him hard, rubbing him exactly the way he liked it and it was always after those dreams that he would wake up to the sheets fucking soaked.  Soaked way beyond anything he woke up to when Pamela Anderson ran down the beach towards him as he slept.  She did it for him too, but it was just...different.  His dreams with Sam were so real.  So intense.  He was sure he was completely and totally fucked forever until he found that story that said these things didn't have to make sense.  They usually didn't.  Guys have lots of sex dreams about their family because that's who they're closest too, the story said, and it was just your dick getting crossed up with your brain and your heart and these things in your body called "hormones" that you couldn't see and couldn't do anything about and there was nothing wrong with it.  He'd felt a hell of a lot better after that.  The dreams about Sam never stopped.  But after he read that, he didn't want them to.  

 

"I'm only sayin' that this story said it doesn't mean anything; what you dream about.  The chemicals in your body are fucked up and you just have to roll with it.  It's normal. You're normal, Sam."

 

"Okay."

 

"Alright then," he said with some finality, "You hit the shower and I'm gonna go wash these.  It's okay, Sammy."

 

His brother smiled and stood up, making a face when his boxers stuck to him.  "Throw those out to me when you get in the bathroom," he called after him.

 

____________________________________________________

 

 

He stayed sitting on the bed until the spent boxers came sailing through the air, landing at his feet. He quickly scooped them up and dropped them on top of the dirty sheets as he heard the lock turn on the bathroom door.  "Don't you fuckin' lock that door, Sammy!" he called out.  One of dad's rules: no locked doors in the motel room.  You never knew when you might need help, or protection.  In a hurry.  He heard the lock swiftly click back open.

 

He didn't want to get up until he heard the shower running.  Didn't want to risk Sam seeing that he had his own raging erection.  He quickly reached down inside the elastic waistband of his sweats and groaned as he grabbed himself, stroking hard.  His dick twitched when his hand met the cool spot on his thigh where Sam had soaked him in his sleep. He roughly jerked his waistband down, below his balls, and got up on his knees.  It barely took any time at all as he stroked himself and rocked his hips in time to his hand. He kneeled over Sam's used-up boxer shorts and came hard, spurting several times onto the damp fabric as he sucked down air.  He told himself he did it because they were already dirty anyway.  He told himself that it must run in the family....morning wood.  So what the fuck difference did it make it if he hadn't actually woken up with a hard on; only got one after sitting and talking to Sam; it was still morning wood, right?  He didn't think too hard about the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach either.  Maybe he should be grossed out that he'd woken up to Sam's come on his thigh and his sheets....but he didn't feel gross, he felt...lucky. His brother had trusted him with yet another first - something private - and he was there for Sam.

 

Always.  

 

He was glad he'd found that story in that doctor magazine so he could tell his brother that he wasn't a freak.  

 

And there was something else.  Sam had caught up to him.  Lately, Dean was sure that he himself was practically grown up - he knew more than most idiot adults anyway - and Sam was still a stupid little kid, but his brother had caught up to him now.  They were in it together again.  It felt...good.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sam leaned against the wall of the shower.  He heard the motel room door close and lock as Dean headed for the laundry room.  His brother hadn't teased him.  Hadn't made fun of him.  Had taken care of him.  Cleaned up after him like it was no big deal.  Said the same thing happened to him all the time and it didn't mean anything....what you dreamed about. The same thing happened to him all the time....he suddenly realized he'd been imagining it happening to Dean.  Dean's huge dick (well, to a ten-year-old, the bulge in his fourteen-year-old brother's jeans these days looked huge), sticking out while he rubbed it against the sheets when he thought Sam was asleep...Sam's hand flew to his own dick which was...bigger than it had been before.  He slid his hand down, feeling his stomach flutter. He imagined his brother doing this...what he was doing...doing this to him the way he'd been doing it to Sam in his dream.  "Dean!" he cried out as he felt a huge release of pressure.  Like getting to pee when he had to pee really bad.  Only way better.  He kept stroking until it happened again.  Dean's name on his lips.   _"It doesn't matter who you dream about...your body's just goin' nuts and it doesn't make sense."_

 

It didn't make sense to Sam, not really, but it felt so fucking good, and his big brother said it was okay, and his big brother knew everything.  He heard the front door open and balled up his free hand, biting down on his fist until he felt everything release again, groaning Dean's name.  Only nothing came out this time.  He wondered if he'd used up his entire lifetime supply of the white stuff in his dick all in one morning.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dean came back from dropping everything off in the motel washing machine and the shower was still running.  Fuck.  He'd have to wait an hour before there was enough hot water for him.  He paused when he heard a muffled "Deh!" coming from behind the door.  He smiled.  Kid was practicing already.  

 

He started taking some stuff out to cook breakfast.  He'd bought as much as he could down at the Piggly Wiggly yesterday; trying his best to stretch two day's worth of money into four by choosing only the basics when he really wanted to fill his cart with the expensive stuff like Coke and Hostess pies and Combos.   When the paper-thin bacon was sizzling, he knocked on the bathroom door, "Breakfast's almost ready!  You might wanna go a bit easy in there, Ron Jeremy!"

 

Hearing the water shut off, he went back to scrambling the eggs.  

 

Sam came out in clean sweats drying his hair with a towel.  He threw it on the floor, stepping over it in a rush to get to the table.  "Not your fucking maid." Dean scolded, not even looking in his brother's direction.  Sam sheepishly picked the towel up, hanging it on the hook to the side of the bathroom door.  "Who's Ron Jeremy?"

 

"Seventies porn star, Sammy, God, I have to teach you everything," Dean winked and Sam looked down at the floor.

 

"That smells so good," Sam groaned, grabbing a plate and sitting down at the table.  "I'm starving.  I'm so fucking thirsty too."  

 

"Yeah, you gotta watch out for that.  It's all fluid man; don't get dehydrated.  Hey, I'm not your fucking waitress either, you can get over here and get your own breakfast."

 

His brother brought his plate over to the stove and Dean loaded it up with bacon and eggs.  Sam dug in like he hadn't eaten in a week.  "This is so good," he said through huge bites. "You're a good cook."  Then, barely audible, "You're good at everything."

 

Dean's heart swelled.  "Only learn what I need to know, Sammy.  The rest of my brain belongs to Pamela Anderson and the same thing you were doing in there."  He got such a huge kick out of seeing his little brother blush and Sam didn't disappoint.

 

By the time he turned around with his own plate of food, Sam's glass of orange juice was empty and so was half his plate.  "Hey, slow down," he told him.  "If you're thirsty, get some water, we're not fuckin' made out of money."

 

The pout on Sam's face sent a pang of guilt to his heart, "Don't we have any more orange juice?" his brother sounded surprised that they might be out.  Kid had no idea what a bottomless pit he was turning into.

 

All that was left was what was in Dean's own glass.  "You can have mine," he said, sliding it over to his brother and filling Sam's empty one up with water for himself.

 

"Thanks," Sam smiled, but he drank more slowly this time.  "So, I can get a girl pregnant now?  Really?"

 

"Well," he said, "probably not right this second."  He looked Sam over, "I'm guessing the well's dry, huh?"  

 

Sam's nod made him laugh, but it was kindhearted.  "Been there - don't worry, it'll come back.  Fast."

 

He could see the relief on his brother's face and he wondered how long Sam had been wanting to ask him about that.

 

"Plus, you'd need an actual girl," he teased.

 

"Shut up," Sam shot back.

 

He sat down across the table from his brother.

 

"Hey, I'll steal us a beer tonight.  We gotta do something to celebrate the day you stopped being a kid."

 

"Really?"  Sam's hopeful look directed at him made his chest feel warm.

 

"Yes, really!  It's a fucking big deal."

 

"If dad finds out you stole, he'll kill you."

 

"Yeah, well, he should leave us more than twenty-five bucks for a week.  He won't find out."

 

His little brother's smile lit up the dingy motel room.

 

"And, you know, some shit's gonna change around here now that you're not a kid anymore," Dean said, mouth full of bacon.

 

Sam's question was tentative, "Like what?"

 

"You're gonna fucking learn how to do laundry for a start."

 

Sam nodded, like he was okay with that.  "You're not gonna tell dad, are you?  You know; about this?"

 

"None of his business," Dean reflexively answered, then thought for a second, "Sammy, I know dad's not around much but he'd listen if you wanted to -"

 

"I'm not talking to dad," his brother cut him off.  "Don't want to.  Just you.  If, um, if that's okay."

 

Dean felt a lump rising in his throat.  He cleared it, saying, "You can ask me anything you want.  'Kay kiddo? Er, I mean, Sam."

 

"How come you don't want to call me 'kiddo'?" Sam didn't miss anything.

 

" 'Cause it doesn't apply anymore."

 

His little brother, who wasn't that little anymore, was smiling even wider now, giving him no choice but to smile back.

 

"Will you teach me how to clean your gun?" Sam asked shyly.

 

"Keep your hands off my stuff," he shot back, but the smile didn’t leave his face while he said it.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sam's thirtieth birthday cake had been pretty well decimated and Dean had broken out the bottle of Scotch he'd brought on this hunt just for tonight.  It was warm, and comforting, and Dean successfully, temporarily, shoved down the voice in his head that was demanding to know what had happened that night and how the fuck soon could it possibly happen again and just tried to enjoy the loose feeling in his arms and legs, the fuzzy static in his brain from the Scotch, and the _home_ of Sam next to him.

 

Something had shifted.  It was just the two of them, alone in the motel room, watching TV, surrounded by cake crumbs on styrofoam plates on a sagging motel couch, but everything felt clearer, brighter and more electric.

 

"That cake was...awesome," Sam cut himself a final piece, feeling his stomach reach its limits.

 

"I knew it was the kind of girly thing you'd like," Dean reached over and scraped the icing off of Sam's piece, letting the sweet, creamy chocolate fill his mouth.

 

Sam rolled his eyes and all was right with the world.

 

"I've met you, you know."  Dean smiled at him.  "Fuck, this icing is good."

 

"Thanks.  For tonight; for everything."

 

"Don't mention it," Dean smiled quietly back at his brother.  "I didn't exactly have a bad time either, ya know."

 

He knew down to his core that he was never going to be able to get off again without reliving tonight in his mind.

 

"Gonna hit the john," Sam got up from the couch. "Stay the fuck away from my cake."  

 

Dean took a huge bite of his brother's cake when he wasn't looking, just to piss him off.

 

When the door closed, Dean absentmindedly unfolded the note that Gill had shoved into his hand on her way out.  It contained her phone number and her neat handwriting; "you shared something with me, I'm going to share something with you," followed by the recipe to the drink she'd served him.  

 

“Rite of Passage” it said at the top, the underline made it look official.

 

She'd been right about one thing; Dean was 100% sure he could never go back.


End file.
